Black Knight, White Queen
by Andarte
Summary: When all their plans go wrong, Hermione finds herself a prisoner of the Dark Lord until Draco Malfoy claims her as reward. What is he hiding? Why is he protecting her? And is there hope for the Order after all? AU/AR.
1. Chapter 1

**Black Knight, White Queen  
**Chapter 1: Pawns and Knights

_Pawns: The infantry pieces of chess, they are the weakest and the most  
numerous. They have limited movements._

_Knights: The cavalry of chess, they move differently from every other piece.  
They move two spaces in one direction, then one space in the other._

The room which held her was pitch black, with no source of light to be found. The walls were cold and roughly cut stone. The floors were of the same stone, and despite having been smoothed over time they were still damp and equally cold. Hermione had lost track of time since she had been thrown down here, knowing only that food had been brought twice, though at such long intervals that her stomach had spent the majority of the time complaining. It would be a good time to panic, but recent events had left her feeling so numb that she had a difficult time caring one way or another what happened to her now.

All through what would have been her seventh year, Hermione had worked with Harry and Ron to track down and destroy Voldemort's horcruxes. They had been only one horcrux away from being able to defeat him, just the serpent Nagini. Things hadn't gone according to plan though, and the victory had slipped right through their fingers. Now, as she sat in the dark and uncomfortable cell, Hermione had no knowledge of her friends' fate. She could only hope for the best, but assume the worst.

What must have been hours later, Hermione heard the sound of voices coming nearer. A couple sounded vaguely familiar, but without being able to see them she found herself completely unable to identify any. The sound of footsteps stopped nearby, and metal creaked as she heard a heavy door open. A sudden 'lumos' left her momentarily blinded and sent sharp shoots of pain through her eyes.

Her arms were grabbed roughly by two sets of hands and she found herself stumbling along as she was dragged out of the dungeon, down long hallways, and into a dimly lit chamber. It was a long room, elegantly decorated if you took the time to look. The only light came from the fireplace and a few well placed candles. At the head of the room sat a dark figure in a large chair, its face pale and snake-like. It wasn't much of a guess to figure out just who she had been brought before.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came. Her body stood, frozen, as unresponding as her mouth had been. She was still somewhat numb, but no longer immune to fear. She had survived much, but there didn't seem to be an end in sight.

"Ahh..." said Voldemort, his voice harsh and cold. "Miss Granger, isn't it? Potter's bookworm friend? How nice of you to join us. We will enjoy you, but first there is other business. Come forward, young Malfoy."

Managing to turn her head somewhat, Hermione saw the cloaked form of one of those who had carried her up step forward. As they neared Voldemort, their hand reached up and pushed back the hood. There was no mistaking the pale blonde hair of Draco Malfoy, and Hermione's anger strengthened her enough to shake herself free of the other figures that stood with her. "You... you bastard. This is all your fault! You..."

Voldemort's hand twitched briefly and Hermione felt a silencing charm settle over her. Despite the continuing movement of her mouth, further sound refused to come out. The figures behind her renewed their grip more firmly, and she was left with no alternative but to watch the scene in horror.

"You have done well, Draco," said Voldemort, his attention once more on the boy before him. "You have given me the victory I desired and others failed to produce. Now we will begin to reform the magical world as _we_ see fit. Name your reward. It is given."

Draco Malfoy was silent for a moment, as if in contemplation. "My Lord, I wish to have the mudblood Hermione Granger as mine alone, to do with as I see fit. She has caused my unease since I first laid eyes on her, and I wish to even the score."

The serpentine eyes of Voldemort flared in indignation, and his wand hand stiffened, causing Draco to fall writhing to the floor in pain. His screams echoed through the room, rivaling in volume those screams of her friends that were engraved in Hermione's mind. When it finally ended, Voldemort spoke as if nothing unusual had occurred. "You are insolent, young Malfoy, regardless of your accomplishments. Still, you served me well, and so the mudblood is yours. Claim your property."

Draco bowed deeply, taking two steps backwards before turning towards Hermione. His expression seemed pained, but otherwise unreadable. He walked swiftly over to her, grabbing her arm and hauling her to her feet. They left immediately, and though Hermione felt relief from leaving Voldemort's presence, she found her current situation to be no more comforting.

After again wandering through the poorly lit halls of whatever building it was they were in, Draco opened the door to a bedchamber and shoved her roughly on the bed. He cast several charms on the door after closing it, which from what Hermione saw of the wand movements seemed to be locking and silencing charms. He then turned away and began undressing in quick, stiff movements. Had it been under different circumstances, Hermione might have been able to admire the figure she had almost full view of before her. Not to mention had she not known who the figure belonged to. As it was, she was both nervous and angered. It was Malfoy's usual affect on her, just significantly heightened by recent events.

She had gone through being imprisoned by Malfoys before, and she had no more taste for it now than she had before. Granted, now there were no Bellatrix Lestrange and seemingly endless Cruciatus curses, but neither did there seem to be much chance for an escape.

"Malfoy... why did you..." she began. "I mean... what..."

"Tomorrow, Granger. We will talk tomorrow," he said, wincing as he lowered himself onto the bed beside her. As someone who had suffered from the Cruciatus, and at the wand of his own family, Hermione knew the residual pain that he would still be experiencing. She knew ways of soothing that pain too, but couldn't bring herself to offer any aid to someone who had betrayed the Light so terribly.

Hermione got up out of bed and made her way to the bathroom. One look in the mirror and she gasped at her disheveled appearance. Her hair, which was normally bushy and soft, was severely matted and badly in need of a wash. Smudges of dirt adorned her face and arms, and much of her clothing was torn in places. She did what she could with soap and water in the sink, as she didn't feel enough at ease in Malfoy's room to take a shower just yet.

She didn't sleep much that night. Instead she alternated between staring at Malfoy and at the ceiling, her mind replaying the events that had led up to where she was now.

Only days before, Draco Malfoy had come to the Order claiming himself changed. He'd seen enough, he said, and wanted to help defeat Voldemort. Hermione had been one of the first to step forward and offer him a second chance. She'd hated him throughout her years at Hogwarts, resenting his cruelty towards herself and her friends. Still, Hermione had a soft heart, and was willing enough to give anyone another chance. That was a decision that was quickly becoming one of the most foolish she had ever made.

_-x-x-x-x-x-_

When morning came there was no sunlight shining through the window panes. Those had been covered thoroughly, just like every other window Hermione had seen since coming here. She felt Malfoy begin to rise beside her, then heard a thud on the floor. _That would be his muscles locking up_, she thought to herself, _the still lingering after effects of the Cruciatus_. Had circumstances been different, Hermione would have laughed.

As it was, she just looked over at him and did nothing, keeping her expression blank other than a slight widening of her eyes. He stood up quickly enough, apparently well used to the Cruciatus' effects. If he was a frequent recipient of it, Hermione had a difficult time caring. He looked at her strangely for a moment, then spoke.

"You don't have to like the situation, and I'm not going to explain the entire dynamics of it quite yet either. I know you hate me, but you might consider that you don't know everything and you would be a lot worse off had you been given to anyone else among his followers. There were many waiting for the opportunity to ask for you. I've no doubt you'd be alive, but you would very much be wishing you were dead."

Hermione just stared at him, her jaw set in a stubbornly angry expression and her arms crossed over her chest. After a minute he just shook his head and began getting dressed.

Draco left her locked in that room all day, though even she had to admit it was a hundred times better than the dungeon had been. Food and drink were brought to her by the house elves, and Draco had arranged for clothes and books to be brought as well, even a muggle chess board, but the house elves had specific instructions not to converse with her or fulfill even the slightest request that Draco himself had not authorized.

For someone who'd been tortured in the past, and was now the captive of a boy that she despised, Hermione's day went rather well.


	2. Chapter 2

**Black Knight, White Queen  
**Chapter 2: Bishops and Rooks

_Bishops: When together, bishops are strong pieces because they may go  
diagonally in any direction. Separated, they are weak, because each bishop  
must remain on the same color square for the duration of the game._

_Rooks: The rooks are slightly more powerful than the bishop, able to move  
vertically or horizontally in any direction. They too are strongest when  
together._

Late in the night Draco returned, blood covering a good portion of his clothing and a limp to his step that made Hermione wonder how much of the blood was his. Anger had filled her before, but over the day she'd spent stuck in his room she had calmed. It was not in her nature to allow the suffering of others if there was anything within her power to change it, even if 'others' included those she might claim to want dead. She felt compelled to help, and so walked wordlessly over to him once he had the door shut and warded.

His clothes were caked with blood and mud, making them stiff and strange to the touch. Not the easiest things to remove, but she made quick work of his outer layers. Draco watched her with a hard expression for a moment, finally relaxing after deciding that she had no ulterior motive. She was a Gryffindor, and it should come as no surprise to see her acting like one.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and moved as little as possible while she worked, and when enough of the clothing had been removed she realized why. The majority of the blood that adorned him was not his, and so she assumed that his opponent had gotten the worst end of things, but it seemed that he had not been able to protect himself from everything.

He had gashes in his side, just under his ribcage, which seemed to be caused by a particularly nasty hex. She knew that any movement, even breathing, must be hurting him terribly, and yet he showed no sign of the pain. It was if he was numbed by his experiences, and it caused her to wonder just how much there was about him that she didn't know.

She cleaned his wounds carefully, taking his wand without asking permission and using it to perform a couple of healing charms on him. He raised his eyebrow at that, but still said nothing. It wasn't until she had him cleaned up, healed, and redressed in fresh clothes that he saw fit to speak.

"What I meant earlier..." he began awkwardly, "you should know, Granger, that I'm not so bad as you think I am. There was an... unexpected turn of events that changed things for me. I can't explain what they were, but I didn't mean for you to be harmed. I'm not going to hurt you now either, not if I can help it. Just don't make things more complicated for me. I can only protect you so far if the Dark Lord suspects treachery."

Hermione just nodded robotically, unsure of what the correct response might be. Inactivity had tired her as much as activity had tired him, and it wasn't long before both of them sought sleep. Her sleep didn't last long though before nightmares woke her, and she knew that she must have made noise when she felt Draco reaching out to her. He hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. The movement caused him to grunt softly in pain, but he didn't loosen his grip.

"I'm still angry with you, Malfoy," she whispered, only partially conscious as she relaxed in his arms. Enemy of not, her body recognized the need for comfort, and Draco seemed willing enough to offer it. Had she been surrounded by her friends then she likely wouldn't have allowed herself anywhere near him, but she was not and so her subconscious was making her decisions for her, taking what it could and hoping for the best.

_-x-x-x-x-x-_

The next morning as she began to wake, Hermione mostly expected to find Draco already gone. She felt as though she had slept well into the day, but sure enough when she sat up she saw him sitting in the corner of the room with an open book in his hands. He looked up for a moment, smiling briefly in acknowledgment.

"Feeling better?" she asked, wondering why he was still here and not out doing his Dark Lord's bidding, but not wanting to ask out right.

"Mostly," he said, closing the book. "I'll be sore for a few days, but it will pass soon enough. Thank you for helping me last night. You didn't have to."

She nodded in answer, still clutching the blankets tightly around her. Her body was still damaged, but her curiosity wasn't. She couldn't help but ask questions. "Why did you ask for me, Malfoy? Why would you care about my fate?"

He just looked at her for a good minute before speaking. "Because, I felt like it," he drawled finally, as if it was a matter of no importance in the slightest.

It was an answer, finally, but probably the least helpful one that she could imagine. 'He felt like it' could mean anything. "I thought you couldn't stand the sight of me," she said slowly, trying to bait him into answering her. "Do you really hate me so much that you wanted to personally see me miserable? I know you spoke of keeping me safe, but I don't understand why you would want to."

The book that had been in his hand connected with a wall and his expression was full of finally released anger. "Do you really think so badly of me, even now?" he asked, sneering. "Can you tell me what harm has befallen you in my care?"

"I--," she began, then stopped short. There was really nothing to be said because the truth was that she _hadn't_ been harmed by him. Not yet. "You just, you always hated me. I'm just Potter's Mudblood friend to you."

"Let me explain some things to you," he continued angrily. "At the moment I have no intention of allowing any harm to come to you. Just because I said cruel things as a child doesn't mean I want you hurt now, but neither will I choose to explain unless I decide I want to. I'm becoming even less inclined to do so the more you question me so incessantly."

At that moment she felt like a petulant child that had been threatened with a spanking. Still, he was being far kinder to her than she would have ever expected before. She wondered if she needed to brace herself for when he would inevitably change his mind and return to the cruel boy she'd known at Hogwarts, but so far it didn't seem like such a blow would come.

"Okay, I'm so--" she started, but stopped short when she saw him clutch his left forearm in pain. He wasted no time in grabbing his wand and cloak and walking out the door. She sat there in the silence for some time before she walked over, picked up the book he had thrown, and began reading.

_-x-x-x-x-x-_

That night when he finally returned it was like déjà vu. He was covered in blood once more. He limped over to the bed and laid down, and from where Hermione sat it didn't look like it had been a fair fight. Moving wordlessly to his side, she began again to clean and heal his wounds. He was far more injured this time, and from the sort of wounds that had been inflicted she couldn't help but suspect it had been done for Voldemort's pleasure.

When he was cleaned up and resting peacefully, Hermione looked at him and couldn't help but feel sorry for him. It didn't matter what she felt he'd done to her and those she cared about. The dark shadows under his eyes, half healed gashes in his sides, and fresh bruises that marred his skin spoke for themselves. Retrieving the chess board brought by the house elves, she began taking it out and setting it up on the bed. "Fancy a game?" she asked him softly.

Draco opened his eyes, surprised that she'd known he wasn't sleeping. A brief smirk adorned his lips when he saw the chess board. "I thought you might like that game," he told her. "I never saw you play Wizard's Chess with Potter or Weasley, but it seemed like the sort of game you'd be good at."

"Wizard's Chess is just so brutal," said Hermione, carefully studying his first move and planning her response. "It makes the game seem more like a game of destruction than one of logic and strategy."

"Isn't strategy all about destruction?" asked Draco softly.

"Not to a Gryffindor," said Hermione with a slight laugh, "though perhaps that's why strategy isn't something we are known for."

"Won't argue with that," said Draco with a smirk. "Check."


	3. Chapter 3

**Black Knight, White Queen  
**Chapter 3: Queens and Kings

_Queen: The most powerful piece in a chess game,  
the queen may move in any one direction for as  
many squares as she wishes._

_Kings: The king is the most important piece, but  
also one of the weakest. He can move only one  
square per turn, though in any direction, and he  
may never place himself into check._

Mornings came, nights went. Hermione had no sense of time, and even less sense of what events were going on around her. Draco spoke nothing of it, only returned to their small bedroom every night with new wounds and little enough blood left in his veins. Every night Hermione tended to him, waiting for glimpses of who the spoiled rich boy really was.

One afternoon Draco returned early, but not alone. On either side of him were men she couldn't recognize, and Draco's face was devoid of all emotion. "Come," he said in a tone unlike what she was used to.

She wanted to question him, beg for an explanation. Anything that would give her an idea of what was happening. There were no answers to be found in his demeanor, though, and she could see he was in no position to explain. So she did all that she could think of to do — she obeyed.

The long, dim hallways seemed no better now than they had the first time she'd seen them, and a since of foreboding seemed to be in the air. Maybe it was the presence of other Death Eaters, the grim expression on Draco's face, or perhaps it was that Hermione disliked the unknown. She'd always researched every trivial detail so that she would be prepared for anything, but there was no preparing herself for this unknown. Whatever it was, her worries were only making it worse.

For the second time she entered that elegant but dismal room where her fate had already been decided once. And again she found herself before Voldemort, and surrounded by his Death Eaters.

"I find victory to be a rather boring affair once managed," he said nonchalantly, and Hermione thought she could hear a slight hiss to his words. "There is nothing to do once the challenge is gone. Perhaps you can liven things up a bit? I grow weary of torturing my own. They are no fun anymore."

Hermione cringed at his words. His attention did not seem fully on her, but that did not make the very real threat seem any less intimidating. His hands twitched, and once again she felt the sharp pain of the Cruciatus. Bellatrix Lestrange might be well known for her skills at inflicting agony, but Hermione found that she had come nowhere close to surpassing her master.

She could hear her own screams echoing in her ears as the violent throbbing coursed through her body unrelentingly. It could have been thirty seconds or thirty minutes that passed under the Cruciatus, she wasn't sure. Though the sharpest pains had passed, her body rebelled, sore and unwilling to heed it's mistress' order.

It seemed her screams were not entertainment enough for Voldemort, however, and he motioned for one among his ranks to step forward. It was a tall, burly man who Hermione did not recognize, but the leer on his face spoke volumes about his intentions. She wanted to run and hide, but her body refused to cooperate and her mind reminded her that she had nowhere to run. The man came closer, and she could see him undressing her with his eyes and thinking through what he wished to do to her body. She wanted to cry, but subconsciously held on tight to the last visages of strength she had.

She thought it as good as settled, until she heard Draco's voice in the distance. She couldn't see him, but the awareness of his continued presence gave her a strange sense of comfort. He was speaking angrily, risking his Dark Lord's anger by reminding him that she was _his_ and no other's, and to be taken by no other. "What good are rewards if they are to be enjoyed by others rather than those who have earned them?" she heard him ask. She could not focus well enough to hear Voldemort's response, but she saw the burly looking man retreat and Draco come into view.

Next thing she saw was his fist descending on her, and then her vision went blurry and her awareness faded in and out.

_-x-x-x-x-x-_

Hermione woke to find herself back in Draco's room, her body carefully laid on his bed and blankets covering her. Moving experimentally, she found herself only slightly sore and knew the worst of it had been healed while she slept. Looking around, she saw Draco sitting in the chair, hair disheveled and staring at the chess set's white queen that he was holding carefully.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

He looked up at her, unbelieving. "Am I alright?" he croaked. "I did this to you and you are asking if I'm alright?"

She smiled in spite of a half busted lip. "It's not your fault he's an evil bastard. You did what you had to." She could almost see Draco withdrawing into himself in his mind, hating himself. She knew he hadn't wanted to hurt her, that he'd done it only to protect her from greater harm, but she could also see that he was blaming himself regardless. "After all these years… now who is being a foolish Gryffindor?" she added softly.

Draco grinned slightly in spite of himself, taken aback by her accusation of Gryffindor behavior on his part. She moved over and patted the bed beside her, inviting him to join her, and he did without hesitation. He eased onto the bed, as if afraid of injuring her, but still managed to get as close to her as possible.

"I said I wouldn't hurt you," he said softly, running his hand along her arm in a soothing manner.

"No," she corrected, "you said you wouldn't if you could help it."

He refused to say anything else, and didn't look her in the eyes, but neither did he let go of her. He seemed scared that more Death Eaters would show up to take her before Voldemort once again, more scared of it than she herself was.

_-x-x-x-x-x-_

They lay there in bed for a long time in silence, both eventually drifting off to sleep. He managed to sleep soundly, but Hermione found herself waking randomly throughout the night. Perhaps it was the after effects of her treatment before Voldemort, or maybe just that she was restless.

In a way, she enjoyed being away during the night. It was early morning when Draco was sleeping that Hermione saw his vulnerable side. He shifted in his sleep and pulled her closely, mumbling as he often did but unlike his normal words of pleading. It was spoken softly, but the words made her stiffen in shock. "Love you… Hermione… love…"

The shock sent her mind reeling, but somehow the words were not as repugnant as they would have been a couple weeks before. A lot had occurred between them while she'd been locked within this room, and she had seen that underneath it all he was trying to do the right thing for her.

It still left many unanswered questions. When had he started caring for her? Why had he returned to Voldemort's side? Why had he been so unwilling to explain his reasons to her? No answers were available to her, and further thought only produced more questions.

Finally though, as they approached what must have been daybreak, Hermione fell into a mostly peaceful sleep. If he loved her then maybe, just maybe, he would act in such away that some good might come of all of this.

_-x-x-x-x-x-_

Hermione woke briefly at the feel of movement beside her. Draco was trying to get up without waking her, but that was a difficult thing to do when their bodies were quite closely intertwined. Through the sleep induced haze she was slightly aware of having spoken.

"Sleep, Granger," said Draco. "I'll be back later."

She fell back asleep immediately, and when she woke for the second time that day it was to the sound of Draco re-entering their room. "Hey," she said softly, both in greeting and to let him know that he needn't be afraid of waking her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, keeping his tone polite and allowing no emotion to break through.

"Better," Hermione said. "Do you have awhile before you have to go again?"

It was a question she had never asked, and the brief look he sent in her direction spoke volumes. Her question was the closest she had come to actually voicing concern, regardless of the gentleness with which she cared for him each time he returned bloody and sore. "I have awhile," he conceded, somewhat wary.

"I was hoping…" she began, then paused to choose her words more carefully. "Something has been on my mind, Draco, and I was hoping you'd allow us to discuss it. I know you haven't wanted to explain much, but I need to at least ask."

He said nothing, but when she saw his wand wave in the direction of the door, she figured it was the closest she would get to permission. The look on his face was no longer guarded. He was allowing her to see the vulnerability. To see that he wasn't sure what she'd ask, and neither was he sure if he wanted to know.

"Did you know you talk sometimes when you are sleeping?" she asked.

Draco took a deep breath and walked over to the bed, sitting down at the edge as if he thought he needed to stay somewhat distant. "I did sometimes when I was younger, but I haven't in years. My subconscious tends to be on guard, and not allow such things to happen," he said, then laughed. "Apparently my subconscious doesn't see you as threatening."

"It seems to have a mind of its own," she said, smiling slightly. "It seemed to think you needed to tell me something."

"What's that?" he asked, expression serious once more. "What did I say?"

Hermione stared at the bedding, not sure if she could tell him if she was looking him in the eyes. So much for Gryffindor courage. "You said 'Love you, Hermione.'"


	4. Chapter 4

**Black Knight, White Queen**  
Chapter 4: Check

_Check: Placing your opponent's king in a vulnerable  
position where he would be taken in the next  
turn if he failed to move._

The silence became uncomfortable after awhile, but Hermione made no effort to fill it. She merely waited, hoping that Draco would offer some sort of explanation rather than refusing once more to answer her questions.

"Ah," he said finally. By his tone, you would think that single syllable was enough to make everything clear. Hermione was nearly about to point out that it did not when he spoke once more. "The things I haven't told you, well, most of them were because I didn't want to get your hopes up. That particular one was because I didn't think you'd take too kindly to hear that the ferret was in love with you."

"I wouldn't have believed it," said Hermione, looking him in the eyes once more. "I'm not sure I believe it now."

Draco grinned and shook his head. "What spoiled little boy wouldn't fall head over heels for the girl who wasn't impressed in the slightest?"

"That's not love," Hermione pointed out rather bluntly.

"True," he continued, "but it is enough to make that little boy take notice. It made him realize how much of a prat he was. Still am, I guess. It's just that I didn't know how else to act, and as I got older that act was one of necessity. That didn't prevent me from being envious when you came to the Yule ball on someone else's arm, or not minding the loss of the house cup when it meant seeing a smile on your face. If I thought I could talk to you without getting hexed, and be with you without it putting you in danger, I would have tried years ago to get your attention. As it was, the only way I could safely get you to look at me was by being cruel."

"I wish you could have found another way," said Hermione. "Besides, that doesn't change where we are now."

Draco winced. He looked around the room for a moment and then went to retrieve the muggle chess set. He brought it back to the bed, holding up the pieces one by one. "This game fits us so perfectly, you have no idea. These pawns... they are all the wizards and witches who have been forced to choose sides in this war. But they are just pawns, unimportant, and so as long as they go unnoticed then their danger is minimal. I've been a pawn in my own way, but never unnoticed. It's more like I'm one of the knights. I can take a step in one direction, but as soon as I do so I have to go in another direction at the same time. It's frustrating, feeling like for every little bit that I achieve, the next step I have to take half undoes it."

She picked up one of the black knights and studied it with a smile. "I can see you as a black knight. So what am I?"

"You're the white queen," he said without hesitation. "So solidly against dark magic, and constantly running all over the board trying to protect everyone. You put yourself in danger, showing your strengths and weaknesses to the world, all because your Gryffindor traits compel you to do the right thing at every opportunity. It makes me envious, I think, because your path forward is so predictable. You know what you will do, even if it means sacrificing yourself."

His words were so sweet, so heartfelt, that Hermione couldn't help being affected. She wanted to be closer to him, to wrap her arms around him for the comfort she knew he'd provide her. He was right though, she would sacrifice herself and her happiness, and because of that she couldn't ignore what was bothering her in the back of her mind. "So why did you betray us?"

Draco reached over, taking her hands in his. "I didn't," he said, his voice pleading for her to believe him. "What I'm doing now... it was the backup plan. Something devised at the last minute when everything went wrong. I went with Potter, planning to destroy Nagini just like I was told. But then, everything went wrong... we didn't find what we'd expected. So Snape devised a plan, and told us the details quickly. Potter is still alive, Hermione, and we are trying to fix how terribly things have gone wrong. But to fix it I have to pretend that I'm still a loyal Death Eater. I just... I didn't want you to get your hopes up when it could still go horribly. Especially since your hands are tied. As much as you want to keep running around, protecting everyone, now is the time when we have to do it on our own and I have to protect you."

The last pieces clicked in place in Hermione's mind, and she began to see the truth. Their lives really were like the chess game. "I really don't like not being able to help," she said. "But... when you say you are in love with me. What does that mean exactly?"

"It means," he began with a smirk, "that I want you all to myself. I want to protect you, to hold you and kiss you. I think about the day that this is all over. I think about marrying you, having children with you, and spending the rest of my life trying to deserve you."

The words made Hermione uncomfortable. The past few days she had realized she cared what happened to him, and now knowing the truth she felt able to care without guilt. He was beautiful, and when he held her at night it made her heart race. When he spoke of kissing her, all she wanted to do was invite him closer. But it was so much, so fast. Marriage? Children? She was having a difficult time reconciling this Draco with the Malfoy git she knew.

He seemed to understand her discomfort, even if he didn't fully comprehend the cause. It made an awkward end to a serious conversation, but Draco didn't seem angry at her lack of response. He just took the chess pieces and set them up for a new game, giving her a questioning look and moving a black pawn two squares forward.

"I know I failed you before," he said softly, "but I will do everything within my power to protect you in the future."

Hermione grinned and quickly chose her move. "You didn't fail. Voldemort made his move, you made yours. So far this white queen is unharmed."

The game wasn't serious, with few of the moves well thought out. Both Hermione and Draco were lost in thought, trying to decide how they felt about the current situation. She was sorting through her emotions while he worried that he'd said too much.

By the time her king was cornered, Hermione had her answers. "You win," she said good-naturedly. "What should be your prize?"

Draco raised an eyebrow and grinned, pushing the chess board to the side and crawling up the bed until his body was over top of hers. He was careful, their bodies barely touching, as he lowered his head and claimed a kiss. She gave it eagerly, one hand playing with his long blonde hair and the other attempting to pull his body closer to her.

Each felt compelled to draw closer to the other, as if their close proximity would be enough to protect the other from harm. Had things gone differently, Hermione might have wondered if it was just that she was his prisoner and he was the only halfway decent looking male she'd seen in weeks. She vaguely remembered reading an article in a muggle magazine about something called Stockholm syndrome, where over time a captive began to feel loyalty towards those who held them hostage. If she wanted, she knew she could make a pretty good case stating that that's what all of this was.

Except that she knew better. She knew that what had upset her the most about his teasing at Hogwarts was how attracted she was to him, and it was what had helped her find the strength to hide how it bothered her. She knew that she believed he was telling the truth before this whole ordeal, just like she believed him now. And really, whether he believed it or not, she knew that he had genuinely _tried_ to protect her. The thoughts were not trauma induced, they were fact, and she wasn't going to hide from them.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, wanting the temporary reprieve that feeling him against her would provide, and aching to feel more than that. He responded enthusiastically, his hands wandering their way under her clothing. Soon enough the layers of clothing began stifling, and one by one they were removed. Neither thought of what they were doing, rather choosing to for once in their lives let go. When finally he thrust inside her, Hermione felt for the first time in a long time like everything was going to be okay.


	5. Chapter 5

**Black Knight, White Queen**  
___Chapter 5: Checkmate_

_Checkmate: Trapping your opponent's king in  
a square where he has nowhere to run to -- no  
way of getting out of check, thus defeating him._

A week later Hermione woke to Draco holding her tighter than usual. She could tell by his breathing that he was awake, and when she turned to face him she found his expression full of worry. "What's wrong?" she asked immediately.

"This is it," he said. "The plan works today or it doesn't work at all. Are you ready?"

Hermione's heart began racing in concern. She had tried to convince him to allow her to take part, but he refused to allow her to do anything that would put her in more danger than was necessary. She'd done her sacrificing for this war, he insisted. Now it was his turn to fix things, and he couldn't function properly if he thought she was in danger. "I guess," she said slowly. "Is there no chance you'll change your mind and let me help?"

"No," Draco said firmly and immediately. "Hermione, please, promise me you won't come back and try to involve yourself."

The inclination was there, they both knew, but Hermione had to admit that the rather decent plan they'd come up with didn't have any room for her. Not to mention that when she looked at the heart wrenching expression on Draco's face, she just couldn't refuse him. "I promise."

He nodded and kissed her lips softly, handing her a portkey. He'd arranged for an out of the way place in Ireland where she would be safe until it was all over, but as it drew closer to the end he found himself wishing he'd found something for her on the other side of the world. He handed her a portkey wordlessly, their eyes speaking volumes of how much they cared for each other.

After he watched her disappear before his eyes, Draco began preparing himself for battle. It wasn't the same as the preparations he made every morning, when his only intent was to survive to fight another day. This time it wasn't the bitter limbo of the everyday, it was the flutters of concern knowing that this was their final chance. If they were dependant on the Boy Who Lived, then they were quickly running out of opportunity and everything had to go perfectly.

The plan was beautiful in its simplicity. Even, or perhaps especially, to a Slytherin. The things that Voldemort counted on for his strength would be his downfall, and if everything went right then there would be nothing Voldemort could do to stop his fall. The 'Dark Lord' would be no longer, and Draco would finally be able to live a life outside of that dark shadow.

When what was supposed to have been the 'final battle' at Hogwarts was over, Voldemort had become so arrogant over his success that no longer were many of the old precautions in place. Victory, it seemed, made people lazy. That was a precious mistake that Severus had planned perfectly how to use to their advantage.

With a sigh Draco turned to prepare himself, quickly donning the Death Eater mask and cloak that he had grown to despise. He took another of each and shrunk them, sticking them in his pocket before grabbing his wand and disapparating.

He arrived on the front porch of Spinner's End and waited patiently. Severus Snape was a cautious man, and his wards allowed none but him to apparate straight into the house. He wasn't kept standing for long, and Severus led him into the sitting room where Harry Potter was already waiting.

"Here," said Draco, taking out and resizing the extra Death Eater clothes he had brought. "These should fit you better than Snape's."

Potter reached out and took the items quickly, looking down at them in disgust. "Where is Hermione?"

"She's safe."

"You know," said Harry, "if you had gone with the original plan and let Snape claim her, she could be here for me to say goodbye to."

"That's your problem, Potter," said Draco angrily, though he kept his tone mostly in check. "You've never had an issue with putting her in harm's way. I do, and so I wouldn't want her anywhere near us right now."

"You never had an issue torturing her before."

Draco wasn't exactly sure what thoughts crossed his mind, because he saw red and next thing he was aware of he had Harry Potter by the next and shoved against the wall. Potter was doing nothing to escape his grasp, but his eyes were glued on Draco in hatred.

"It would seem I can't escape dunderheads no matter where I go," drawled Snape from the doorway. "Now if you are quite finished I think we should get started."

_-x-x-x-x-x-_

The Dark Lord's chambers were always dim and oppressing, never something that one could grow accustomed to or ignore. Even Severus Snape, who Draco admired greatly, had confessed unease whenever his presence was required there. Draco smirked slightly and the awkward gait of Harry Potter in Death Eater garb. Had it been a less serious situation, he would have let him continue making a fool of himself. As it was, they really couldn't afford to look suspicious.

"You walk like there is something shoved up your arse," Draco muttered under his breath. Potter stumbled through the next few steps, but when that was over he managed to adjust his gait so that it seemed at least somewhat normal.

Draco really wished that they hadn't been split up as they had. True, Snape was the stronger wizard and could do a better job of taking care of himself, but as it was Draco was being forced into a new appreciation for all the years Snape had spent teaching dunderheads. He hadn't paid so much attention before, because before he'd only needed to if he was in the mood to humiliate someone, but the Light was bloody lucky the Boy Who Lived had actually managed to survive this long.

The best plan was a simple plan, but Draco was very nearly worried about its simplicity. Maybe it was that he had only Potter at his back, or maybe it was that it involved facing the Dark Lord, but either way his stomach was twisting in knots and his mind was full of paranoia. At every turn he expected Death Eaters or even the Dark Lord himself to appear, killing them both, and each time that they were met with nothing he became even more certain that it would be coming up.

They had realized, during the Battle of Hogwarts, that not only must Nagini be the last remaining Horcrux that they had been seeking, but also that the Dark Lord was very much aware of the danger his beloved serpent was in. Only the most trusted of servants would be allowed to know her location, and he had spared no resource in seeing her protected. But now the war was believed over, and Lord Voldemort had been proclaimed the victor. He was now overconfident, and had made the mistake of lessening the protective measures.

So now he and Potter were on their way to face Voldemort in his very chamber, and Snape was on his way to finally deal with Nagini. As they approached the Dark Lord's chamber, Draco struggled to identify the two Death Eaters that stood guard outside the room. It was never easy, but he'd spent enough time around them that by studying body types and simple deduction he had recognized their identities before ever they spoke.

Macnair and Rowle. Not the best two to try misleading, but Draco also knew that they wouldn't be expecting anything. He just had to stay calm and hope Potter would do the same. Draco nodded ceremonially as he removed his Death Eater mask and spoke firmly. "We are here to relieve you as guard," he told them, though they would have already known to expect him as a replacement. Each guard was told only who would replace them, and no other details of those before or after them on guard were revealed until the last moment. It helped prevent the plotting of those who might be disloyal. At least that was the theory. In that way, at least, Voldemort was still cautious.

Rowle eyed him suspiciously, having never been satisfied with just how long it had taken Draco to see to Dumbledore's death. "Your mask too, Travers," said Rowle.

The second mask was removed revealing the glamoured face of Travers, who had originally been scheduled to partner with Draco as guard. In the dark hallway Potter could pass for the Death Eater fairly well, and Draco was satisfied that he had taken the precaution of using a glamour. Normally removing of masks wasn't necessary, but the older and more experienced Death Eaters had a noticeable distaste for the younger and therefore inexperienced ones.

Draco breathed a sigh of relief when Macnair and Rowle left without further difficultly, leaving him and 'Travers' to stand guard until they received word from Snape.

After nearly an hour of waiting, the signal came in the form of Snape's doe patronus appearing before them. With a quick nod to one another, Draco and Potter turned and together burst into the Dark Lord's chambers, quickly throwing up protective shields in the process.

Over the years, the numerous dark spells and potions that had prolonged Voldemort's life had also altered him. All knew it on sight, but the Death Eaters knew even more of the truth. Not only had Voldemort's features taken on progressively more serpent appearance, but his very sleeping patterns had grown less and less human in nature. Draco wouldn't necessarily say that he ate and rested as a snake might, but it was certainly nothing like what a human would do. During times of restfulness, Voldemort's reflexes were slower and his awareness hindered.

They had him trapped, like a chess piece backed into a corner of the board. Draco hung back, checking their surroundings for possible dangers and allowing Potter to advance. The prophecy had told of the Dark Lord's fall. Told that it would be at the hand of the Boy Who Lived, and so it would be.

There was no mercy in Potter's quick and decisive action, but neither was there hatred. The Boy Who Lived was a boy no longer, and understood that hatred led only to the darkness that men such as Voldemort inhabited. It was a place he did not wish to be, but he would do what he must to see himself and those he loved dearly safe again. He was not there to make a sacrifice. He had been doing that all his life, and the time for sacrifice was over.

It was all over rather quickly, and in the end simply. The dark wizard who had caused the death and corruption of so many fell easily. He was as a king in a chess game -- limited in his movements, depending more than he would like on the protection of those who served him.

And in a moment of lethargy, brought down by his nature and his mistaken belief of victory, the Black King fell prey to his opponent's advance. The Black Knight failed to protect him, no longer willing to sacrifice himself for his King's desires, and the White advanced.

Checkmate.


	6. Epilogue

**Black Knight, White Queen**  
Epilogue

Hermione sat on the shore, watching the ocean crashing against the rocks and sand of Ireland's coast. The portkey had brought her to a rather quaint cottage of rather larger than necessary size. It was impeccably furnished, and the kitchen stocked with enough food to feed the entire Weasley family for a month. It was all beautiful, but she'd quickly found herself drawn to the scenery outside. It was so wild, yet peaceful, that for a few blissful moments she'd forgotten her concern for those she loved.

Hours had passed, and finally she returned to the cottage and begun exploring what meal options the kitchen held for her. She ended up settling for a sandwich, not really in the mood for anything in particular. But she was bored, and as soon as she finished her simple meal she began taking out flour and other supplies for baking. It had been years since she helped her mother in the kitchen, but she still remembered several recipes and figured that something of that nature, quite similar to potions in her mind, might help calm and regulate her thoughts.

By the time the loud crack of apparition invaded the silence, Hermione had two dozen cookies cooling on the countertop and felt half covered in flour. She heard footsteps coming down the hallway, and soon saw Draco entering the kitchen. At any other time Hermione would feel foolish, but she couldn't resist the urge to run and nearly tackle him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

He smirked at her and crushed his lips down on hers, showing rather than saying just how relieved he was to come out of everything with both of them safe. Hermione responded enthusiastically, and it wasn't long before Draco was carrying her down the hallway to one of the cottage's bedrooms and collapsing with her onto the bed.

Hermione began clawing at his clothing, trying her hardest to remove him of them as quickly as possible. The Death Eater cape was the first and quickest to go, and the one she had the most help from Draco with. After that it was like a game to him -- how to make the removal of his clothing as difficult as possible, and the removal of hers as easy.

Draco used his hands to caress as much of her body as he could get his hands on, allowing the majority of his weight to rest on top of her. There were no complaints from Hermione though as she adjusted her legs to better accommodate him, finding the way in which his weight limited her movement to be even more arousing.

Finally, after taking more time than she would have liked, they were both fully undressed and nothing was hindering her ability to feel his bare skin against her own. Draco hissed at the sensations he was feeling as she dug into his arms and back with her fingernails, grinding her hips against him in need.

He slipped a finger inside her, determined to bring her to the edge before allowing himself to join her. Knowing that his exhaustion and emotion would make it hard for him to hold back, even had he wanted to. When the feel of her became too much, Draco adjusted his position above her and sunk down inside the one place that to him felt like home.

Harder and harder he thrust -- trying to lose himself in the feeling, and wanting to merge so fully that nothing could separate them. For years he had wanted her, and now she was his.

Draco slowed his movement only slightly, fumbling around in the pocket of his cloak until he found what he was searching for and with it his hand made its way back to his Queen's body. The sensations were becoming too much, but he was determined to last just a bit longer. "Mm... baby... check," he said as he took a small object and slid it onto her hand.

The cool metal fit perfectly on Hermione's finger, and she didn't feel the need to look to know exactly what it was. She took her left hand and caressed up and down his back, allowing him to feel the cool metal and hot flesh just before she dug her nails down once more as she slammed her hips up to meet him. It sent him over the edge, and moments later, as his movements went from erratic to slow, Hermione looked up at him and grinned.

"Checkmate."

* * *

**Thanks to everyone who has stuck through to the end! :)**

_I actually felt the story more or less complete at the end of the last chapter. I could have taken it further, drawn it out, but it just seemed the right place to end it. However, I know there were a few who had been disappointed by my cutting a scene earlier off right before it would have gotten good. This is for them. ;)_

Also, I'm working on my next story (Severus/Hermione) and I hope to begin posting chapters in the next few weeks. I thought it might be fun to have betas for a change rather than just depending on myself to notice mistakes and such. lol. That is, if anyone wants to. You can let me know by sending a quick email to oneamidala(at)yahoo(dot)com.


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